


Our own stars

by bellofthetolppl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 06, and clarke freaking out on him but this time in the season 6 verse, as you always know, hurt!bellamy, it's more like 610 but reversed with bell being hurt and clarke going crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22292719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/pseuds/bellofthetolppl
Summary: Bellamy gets hurt when he tries to find Octavia after she disappeared in the Anomaly and once Clarke finds out, she goes crazy. Kind of like 6x10 but the roles are reversed and she's worried sick about him.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 108





	Our own stars

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote this because of a prompt I came up with on my own and other people urged me to write the whole thing, so thank you for your support! 
> 
> You can find me @jasperjoordan on tumblr.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!

Clarke bursts through Gabriel’s tent yelling his name, Raven and Miller following by, rushing to grab her by the arms and save her the hurt before she’s got to lay her eyes on the cot which Gabriel had insisted nobody came close to. Especially her.

“Bellamy!” she is fast, though, much faster than any of them anticipate and by the time they are inside, she’s already there, reaching to get to his hand.

It was stupid really. The whole thing was so goddamn stupid, Miller thinks. It was yet another desperate attempt of theirs to find Octavia. A search party of two-just Miller and him. 

Bellamy had sneaked in early in the morning while Clarke was still too busy with waking Madi up and forcing her to have breakfast, knowing this is how he’d get away without her finding out. 

Miller had heard them fight about it the night before, she kept insisting he had to take a break, step back and come up with a strategy, not just go out there in the goddamn Sanctum forest and risk his life. 

But Bellamy wouldn’t hear about it. He still considered it all his fault, he beat himself up about it for weeks and now here they were.

He was lying on a cot bleeding while Gabriel rushed to slap bandages over his head and torso.

His face was one paled by the guilt too. It was after all, his children, or a fraction of what they used to be, who attacked them. 

“Bellamy, no!” Clarke gripped his hand, her eyes widening at the sight of his state. “What the hell happened?”

“Thought I told you to keep her out!” Gabriel barked angrily as he tried to stop the bleeding from the wound in his side. Miller gives Raven a quick nod and together they grab her by the arms but she struggles against them and fights to stay by his side, screaming his name. “No! Let me go! He’s hurt! Bellamy! No, Raven I swear to god I don’t care if you hate me, I’m not-”

“He’s unconscious, Clarke, he won’t hear you.” Gabriel interrupts her harshly, in a way Miller’s never seen of him before as he watches him move from the wound on his side to his head that was split open when he was shot and fell so hard he lost consciousness.

Miller’s moment of distraction is exactly what Clarke needs to free her arm from his grip and then push away from Raven so strong, she almost knocks her out in the face with her elbow.

And then there she is again, by his side, taking his head in her hands, cupping his pale cheeks.

“Bell” she whispers, forehead touching his. When she buries her fingers in his curls they come out bloody and she looks up at Gabriel with horror. 

He gently moves his head to the side and inspects the deep cut, the blood of which was soaking the pillow.

“Shit, it’s deep.” he murmurs as if to himself, grabbing the scissors and cutting some of the hair away to get better access. Clarke kneels by his side, her hands still cradling his face, tears threatening to spill.

“Bell, I’m here. I’m here.” she whispers.

“Clarke-” Raven’s grip on her shoulder is strong but Clarke harshly pulls away when she turns to give them the most wild and angry look he’s ever seen of her “I’m not leaving him!” she barks at them and her voice breaks a little at that but she bites her lips and turns back to him.

Miller nods at Raven to leave, knowing that as well as she might mean, they won’t be changing Clarke’s mind, and looks at Gabriel.

“What can I do to help?” he says it as a whisper and Gabriel gives him a quick grateful smile when he nods at the supplies next to him “You can cut off his shirt while I stitch his head.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Clarke stands up, wiping her tears away and leaving a red stain on her face that makes Miller wince. He reaches to squeeze her hand.

“I’ve got it. He needs you more now.” she grits her teeth and contemplates fighting him but when his fingers wrap around her wrists with just a bit more reassurance, she falls back on her knees next to his head and keeps stroking his face.

She moves so close to him that her hair falls over him as if to keep him safe from the rest of the world, creating a small universe of their own which is what always happened when they were around each other. 

They weren’t just two people hugging, they were Bellamy and Clarke, a universe of themselves, a world that moved with their own gravity, to their own devices, with their own rules. 

A place where death didn’t exist, only pain. The pain that wore their bones, soaked their hearts, ruled their heads. 

Miller once thought that even if they get to live to be old and grey, even if they get to die normal boring deaths, not something horrible like body snatching or fractions of insane people shooting them, it’d still only ever be physical and after, their little universe would still exist, with it’s own stars consisting of the freckles on his face and her hair as the milk white moon.

Clarke whispered, he could hear her but he focused on cutting off his soaked shirt and listening to Gabriel’s strained voice when he commanded him to put pressure on the already soaking bandages of his wound.

Meanwhile Clarke’s fingers stroked his face, her nose touched his, her lips grazed his eyelids.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” her tears mixed with the blood on his cheeks but with her hair half fallen on him, even with her eyes opened, it seemed like it was dark around them. 

Good. 

If it was dark for him, if he was unconscious, then it would be dark for her too. 

They were in it as always, together. 

“Come on now, you can’t be that predictable” she goes on “Going out, hitting your head of all things, you know damn well I’ll never let you get rid of those two brain sells you so preciously hold on to, huh” and all stupid stuff like that, things with no meaning, even somewhat insane. 

She had no clue what she was even talking about but she knew she had to keep going.

“Come on, you fight for me, alright? I didn’t give up, so now you owe me, okay?”

Sweet nothings, empty promises. She was never as good with words as he was, but she kept on, repeating over and over for him to hold on, like a prayer, no…who would she pray to? The universe had fucked her over repeatedly already, it was bad luck to pray to it, so she pushes it at the back of her mind. 

No…she’d just hold on, hold on to him while he holds on to her. 

She’d be the hand that reach out to intertwine her fingers with his and keep him here, because she’d be damn if he left her now.

And yet the blood is so much that every time she opens her eyes, all she sees is a sea of drenched sheets and clothes so she pins her eyes to the floor where the world knocks the breath out of her again once she spots that stupid enormous cardigan of his covered in crimson too. 

She smiles when she rubs her forehead against his and thinks how when he wakes up she’d ask him where he even got it from. 

Why he chose such a ridiculous piece of clothing to put on when he’d always been a fan of old ragged bomber jackets with an insignia of a metal can that mattered or existed no more.

Could it be he got it because of her? 

The other morning when they were having breakfast with Madi by the fire, she had felt a chill run through her spine and of course he had noticed it, so with eyebrows furrowed, he had scooted over pulled the damn ridiculous thing away and tossed it over her back, pushing her to his side to keep her warm. 

Madi had raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner but one look from Clarke made her refrain from any comments whatsoever. 

Still, she couldn’t hide the blush that crept from her neck to her cheeks. He had pretended it was nothing but she noticed his hand shake a bit as he ate from his bowl but once his eyes met hers, he smiled like a five year old shy kid and brushed it off as nothing.

Now that side she had so easily leaned into, that side that kept her warm, was cold and bleeding.

Nobody talked about how awful it feels when your clothes are soaked with blood. It was heavy, it had the distinct smell of death all around you.

Clarke knew Bellamy smelled nothing like that, so to push it away, she buried her nose in the crook of his neck. Her fingers trailed down to find his pulse and she shivered.

It was slow.

Too slow, too weak.

She wished to command it to be better, faster.

“Come on now, you don’t give up that easily, I know you.” she whispers in his ears.

In the distance she can hear Gabriel yelling something at Miller about more bandages, about keeping pressure, about needing blood, sedatives, something she couldn’t make sense of because the only sound in the world for her that existed in that moment was that of his slow trumping.

“I know it in your heart, Bell.” she whispers “Hold onto me, okay, just hold onto me.”

The trump skipped a beat, stopped for a second, then came up with a sharp thud. 

Clarke felt like she was a kid back on the Ark, jumping on her parent’s bed, having fun with Wells, burying her face in the soft pillows, covering herself with the sheets and pretending to be a ghost, before she jumped again.

Her dad would watch them leaning on the door frame, smiling. Her mom would come in a second and scold them to hop off.

Her mom.

The memory of her makes her own trump skip over.

“Dammit, why is it still bleeding!” she hears Gabriel curse and she’s afraid to look up so she just keeps her fingers there on his neck and her lips on his ear, begging over and over for the stars to hear her, to help him keep him here.

Her other hand is at his forehead, caressing the crease between his eyebrows, that one that she made from all their arguing. He laughed it’d never go away now, not after he almost lost her. 

She wonders what scars, what permanent dents this would leave on her face.

“I nee more bandages” Miller yells but she locks it out of her mind, out of their world.

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart, her head moves back to his and she kisses his cheek before she’s whispering in his ear again.

“You’re not leaving, you hear me?” she commands this time. It’s no longer gentle, it’s a fighter’s voice. “That heart of yours, Bell…I know it’s been broken in pieces too many times but, you have to keep it together. For me okay? Just keep pushing through the cracks. I’ll be here to help, alright?I’m not going anywhere.”

She doesn’t know what works. Her empty promises seem too weak but something must happen because finally, Gabriel pulls away from his head and she meets his eyes. 

He gives her a quick nod before he moves to work on the wound on his side, finally relieving Miller’s hand from keeping the blood where it belongs. 

She reaches to the back of his head, the patch that Gabriel cut off and she winces at the thought of his curls missing, but her finger trails down the freshly put stitches.

One, two, three, five rolls, no, six, there was another uneven one that went down colliding with his neck.It seemed fitting-six years of them apart, six stitches-his head almost leaving her heart. 

Damn, their stupid fate and the awful poetic way in which the universe loved to fuck them over.

The skin was tightly put together, forced to keep him here with her but it was also soft and crusted with dry blood.

It’d make one hell of a scar and she’s already imagining him too unhappy about it. They could ask Madi to help push his curls so that it covered it, maybe even let his black ocean grow so long she’d weave the waves of it in a funny braid and if Octavia ever came back, they’d laugh about it and he’d pretend to be grumpy, but he’d love giving them that feeling of happiness, of joy.

Because that’s who Bellamy was.

Even now, with eyes closed, with cheeks pale so that the stars shone out starker, angrier, he was all that was right with the world, all that was warm and soft with their little universe. 

He was sharp chins, dark eyes, grumpy look, teeth grit, but his fingers patted over her body with gentleness others couldn’t possess and his smile was the shiniest of sun rays in a bright summer morning.

He was joy. He was love.

Her thumb goes back to cup his cheek and when suddenly his body shivers under hers- a violent seizure caused by Gabriel trying to clean up the wound on his side-his eyes open just a crack and his breathing hitches.

“Bellamy! Bell!” she calls him and her nails dig a bit into his cheeks in a desperate attempt to make him hold on to this horrible reality.

“Hey, hey look at me!” she begs when she recognizes panic in his eyes. 

His body struggles under theirs, trashes the cot, the only reason he’s not turning his head away is because she’s holding him in place, because it’s her blue eyes grounding him to this reality. 

“Keep him still!” she briefly glances at Gabriel to find him struggling to keep his body pinned down as he covered the still opened wound with his hand.

She grabs his hand and squeezes so hard it must hurt him but it’s the pain that he needs to stay now, so she tries not to feel to bad for causing it.

“Hey, just keep your eyes on me, it’s okay” she lies but his eyes fall on hers and his ragged breathing fans her face. 

It’s clear he has no idea what’s happening, all there is right now for him is pain but she holds onto him for dear life. 

“It’s alright.”

“Clarke-” he whispers, it’s broken,barely there but he says it and suddenly her eyes fill with tears and her vision blurs. 

She gives him a quick nod and runs her other hand through his curls to help calm him down. 

Whatever Miller and Gabriel are trying to do is surely causing him to squirm. A whimper leaves his mouth, he closes his eyes briefly and she thinks, fears, he’ll pass out again but losing that warm look would be the end for her so she digs her nails in his hand. 

“That’s right I’m here” she whispers “And I need you to stay too, alright? You have to fight, Bell.” he smiles through his pain for just a second but it’s like the sun strokes her face so she relishes in it. It’ll be okay, she tells herself, it will be okay. 

“That’s what I said to you….when…you were-”

“Almost dead, I know. I heard it.” she moves to cup his cheek between the pillow and his head and he leans into her touch .

“My sister…if you see her again, tell her-”

“No, we’re not doing the goodbye thing” she cuts him off and he looks at her his eyes smiling again at her stubbornness “We don’t say goodbye, Bellamy.”

“And what do you call that stupid conversation at Becca’s lab?” he manages to utter and closes his eyes briefly which sends her into a near panic attack before he opens them half ways again. 

“It was a precaution. One that was necessary.”

“So is this.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Nothing is happening to you.” he smiles and she thinks maybe it’s bad luck to repeat his words from all those years ago, because it was one of the last few exchanges they had for the next six years but still…she believes it, knows he’ll be fine.

“So…you can say goodbye but I…can’t?”

“That’s right.” she insists and he lets the smallest of chuckles out with whatever strength he has. 

Then he does something that makes her heart skip a beat yet again, he moves his head down just a bit so that his lips graze the inside of her wrist. 

The touch’s electric, sends a shiver through her body so hard, she would’ve almost dropped his hand if she hadn’t commanded herself to stay in place. 

When he pulls his lips away, it’s like he burned a scar into her skin. 

“Doesn’t seem very fair to me, princess.”

She moves closer to him again, hiding his face away with her hair, creating their small universe so she could kiss the place under his eye with her lips in return. 

One day they’d be braver for more, one day, it’d be their lips colliding, creating stars in their own sky. 

But not today.

Today she had to make sure there’s a sky to put the stars on.

So she pulls away and for a moment there they’re both with eyes closed, just breathing, her hand in his, the other pressed between his cheek and the pillow, warm but soft, stubbornly keeping him here with her, selfishly allowing herself to touch him, hold him, like she otherwise wouldn’t.

“Yeah, well life’s not fair” she whispers in a while, remembering his last comment. 

His eyes snap back to hers and she drowns in the warmth of the forest brown. 

She sees in there trees where their kids could climb to pick apples, houses he builds for them, for Madi, to play into and in hers, he sees the ocean waves that crash in their backs as he holds their baby son in his arms, giggling, kicking his little legs in the air while Madi climbs on top of Clarke’s shoulders and splashes water over them.

They see the life they could have and one day maybe will.

“No, it’s not.” he says, the dreams of their happiness fading when the reality of his pain settles over once more.

“Clarke-” he whispers desperately when he feels strong arms pull him up in a sitting position, someone’s hands wrapping a tight bandage over his chest. 

She moves as well, still holding his hand and supporting the back of his head that feels like falling off. 

It lolls down dangerously to the side but she must somehow climb next to him or was it behind him so his cheek ends up pressed to her chest, his curls grazing her chin, maybe tickling her. 

“Shh, you’ll be fine.” she’s looking down at his body, frowning and she seems pissed in that Clarke princessy way of her, at what she’s seeing. 

She wants to rage chaos, destroy the universe, kick it back into it’s black hole and let them live a life of their own.

And all he craves for is to meet her eyes again, see those ocean waves, two kids kicking the water stubbornly, her laugh filling his lungs with life.

He needs that.

So he just whispers.

“Clarke” her head snaps back to him as she holds him up while other fingers, warmer, faster, rushing to pull at his limbs like ropes holding him, tying him, to this place, to this life, fingers he cared nothing about but which might save him, keep him with her “Look at me.” he begs and she does.

When her blue meets his brown, the world is color and laugh and warm summer days all over again.

His heart quiets down to a weak but steady trump.

He smiles when her hand cups his cheek, when her lips graze his forehead, when she moves her mouth to whisper commands of him staying with her.

And he lets his eyes rest, let’s her arms hold him, because he knows that the darkness won’t consume him, not in that bad irreversible way anyhow and he’d once again wake to meet the ocean and then, only then he promises himself, he’d finally let his lips find hers.


End file.
